Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(37)
Author: Abby McDonald

Silence.

Grace heard a car pull up outside; the familiar death rattle of Dakota’s old engine. “That’s weird,” she said, glad to change the subject. “She only just went out.”

She went to the window and looked out. Dakota’s car came to a stop, slung at an abrupt angle across the driveway, and before he’d even shut off the engine, Hallie came tumbling out. She fled toward the house, slamming the front door behind her.

“Oh, boy . . .” Grace turned away from the window. She hadn’t seen Hallie’s face clearly, just a flash of distress, but that was enough. A sense of impending doom blossomed in her veins.

“What’s wrong?” Theo leaped up at the sight of her face.

“I don’t know. . . . Nothing good.” Grace snapped back into action. “I should go, see if she’s OK.”

Theo’s face fell. “Uh, sure. And I better be getting back, to meet the guys.”

“Right.”

Grace took him down to the front door. “Give my best to your mom, and Hallie,” Theo said awkwardly. His shoulders were hunched, both hands in his pockets.

“You too. I mean, with Portia,” Grace said.

There was a pause, then they both bobbed toward each other in what had to be the most awkward brief hug in the history of awkward brief hugs. Grace patted his back stiffly. “Have a safe trip back!”

“You too.” Theo coughed. “I mean, stay safe.”

“Uh-huh.” Grace bit her lip. “Those mean streets of Beverly Hills!”

Grace closed the door behind him and rested her forehead against it for a moment, full of disappointment. What happened to “normal” and “nothing had changed?”; the casual e-mails and joking texts? Was this their friendship now: nothing but stilted conversation, and awkward hugs? She’d been waiting so long to see him again, but he’d been acting like they’d barely met — like all the afternoons they’d spent laughing together had never happened at all.

She headed for the guesthouse, trying to think of a reason, any reason at all why he would be so cold, but Grace could find only one explanation: that night up on the hill. She’d done this. She’d ruined everything!

The sound of Hallie shouting brought her back down to earth.

“I don’t understand! Why don’t you want me to come?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to,” Dakota’s voice was pleading. “It’s just, you can’t, not right now.”

Grace paused on the stairs. She felt awkward eavesdropping, like she was a kid again, hovering outside her sister’s closed door, but she didn’t step away.

“Why not?” Hallie cried, voice breaking. “Is it the band? Did they say something? I knew Reed never liked me!”

“Come on, Hallie, please. I’m going to be busy in the studio, I’d barely see you. And you can’t leave your life here, I can’t ask that.”

“Why not? I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for us to be together!” Hallie cut off into loud sobs, and when Dakota spoke again, it was softer. Soothing.

“It’s just for a couple of months,” he said, voice faintly muffled. Grace could picture him holding Hallie close. “And then when things are more settled, you’ll come visit, OK? Who knows, maybe they’ll hate us, and put us on the next flight back.”

“They won’t.” Hallie hiccupped. “They’ll love you.”

There was a long silence. Grace shifted uncomfortably, but just as she was about to turn and slip quietly back downstairs, Hallie’s door flew open and Dakota emerged.

“Hey!” Grace exclaimed, flushing. “I didn’t know you were here. I just came in!”

Dakota didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment. He looked worn-out, the way Grace always felt after being caught in one of Hallie’s maelstroms. “I have to go,” he told her, then glanced back at Hallie’s room. “Make sure she’s OK?”

Grace nodded, but he was already gone: taking the stairs two at a time in a dull thud.

She ventured into Hallie’s room. “What’s going on?”

“The band got a deal.” Hallie was sobbing, red eyed and wretched. “They’re going to New York to record.”

“But that’s great!” Grace moved closer.

“No, it isn’t!” Hallie cried. “He’s leaving! Why does he have to go? Everyone I love always leaves me!” And she collapsed facedown on the bed and howled.

Dakota left for New York the very next week. Grace watched as Hallie spent every last minute trailing him from band practice to errands to bon voyage parties; clinging to his hand so tightly it was as if she could make him stay through sheer force of will. Too soon, the day of his departure came.

“You’ll call?” Hallie clutched him, tears already flowing down her cheeks.

“Every day,” Dakota promised, hugging her close.

Grace moved a polite distance away in the busy Departures concourse. Dakota was traveling with the rest of his band, but Hallie had never been one to overlook the drama of a passionate farewell scene: she insisted on waving him off at the airport, which meant that Grace, as the only Weston sister with a driver’s license, was playing chauffeur.

She loitered by the newsstand while Dakota and Hallie murmured their good-byes.

“C’mon, D!” An impatient yell came from across the concourse. The rest of the band was waiting by the security line, toting guitar cases and duffel bags. Reed waved Dakota over. “We’re boarding, get a move on!”

Dakota broke away from Hallie and gave her one last kiss, cradling her face in both hands. He whispered something — too soft for Grace to hear — and then hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and walked away.

“Ready to go?” Grace asked, but Hallie stayed glued to the spot, watching as he handed over his ticket and boarded the escalator. “Hallie . . .”

“Hold on.” Hallie craned her neck to see, following the back of his head as he moved up toward the baggage-screening station; laughing and joking with the rest of the band. Grace watched too, waiting for Dakota to turn — to send Hallie one last smile, or wave — but he didn’t look back. The line moved on, and he disappeared from sight.

Grace turned to Hallie. Her face had fallen, tears already starting again. “Let’s go.” Grace tucked her arm through Hallie’s and steered her toward the exit. “We can stop by In-N-Out on our way back.”